


Silhouettes

by QueenForADay



Series: Way Down We Go [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Kidnapping, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, But you know it's because you are a criminal I suppose, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Just make sure Bucky is okay, Past Relationship(s), People trying to do their jobs, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-credit scene, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protect Bucky Barnes 2k16, Reader is Drugged, Reader-Insert, Takes place before Bucky is introduced in Civil War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-08 16:48:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6864571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenForADay/pseuds/QueenForADay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when the Reader and Bucky are on the run together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

After a while, it all became the same.

Every motel, abandoned apartment and low-cost hotel was the same. There was routine when walking around a city – keep your head down and don’t linger in one place for too long. The method and routine was so embedded into your bones that, if you managed to get a normal life at the end of all of this, you wondered if you would ever be the same.

Being on the run with Bucky was eventful, to say the least.

Not in the “we’ve just been spotted, quick, let’s shoot our way out of this”, but more in the lines of something began to happen to the both of you.

For a long time, neither of you even acknowledged it. When you would secure a new place to live, it was usually a sparsely furnished apartment, long abandoned by its previous owner. You both shared a mattress on the floor, but even that was something that didn’t always happen. You would keep as much space between you as you could. Sometimes you took turns keeping watch just in case any prying eyes had managed to spot you entering the city. Even though you both chose to live in the tiny apartment, sharing a space with each other, you’ve never felt further from anyone in your life.

What also became the same, or at least, you couldn’t tell the difference anymore, was who or what you would be running from. The line between SHIELD and HYDRA had long since blurred. Mercenaries trying to pick up extra money tried to get you or Bucky or both of you, and always ended up dead on the floor of your tenement. That was when you had to move to a new city.

Bucky had been the only constant.

Neither of you said it, but you both knew it was there – the need of each other. The need to help each other survive, thrive and cope.

When winter came in Finland that was when you realised the need to keep him with you was something else entirely. It was something deeper. You remember that night so clearly. The problem with abandoned apartments was that usually their amenities were shut off. Sometimes you could be lucky and stumble across one that still had their water supply. That was all you needed, really.

The night only grew colder with every passing hour. That, combined with the darkness of the night and the pelting of snow and hail against the windows, just made the night unbearable. The radiators and heating throughout the apartment were long cut off, and were practically slabs of ice against the dark walls. Knowing this would happen, you had bought extra blankets in an effort to keep you and Bucky warm during the night. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t stop your fingers growing numb or your body from trembling with every breath you took.

Your body trembled even as you tugged your blankets tighter around yourself. You were a trained soldier – trained to deal with bullets and poison and extreme weather conditions. But this was unlike anything you had ever encountered.

Bucky shook slightly behind you. He was faring better than you, as he should. He had more body mass to work off of. You looked over your shoulder to him. The night was dark – you could barely make out the outline of his body.

“Are you okay?” his voice almost made you jump. You never spoke during the night. When you turned in for bed, you normally fell asleep straight away. Neither of you were getting sleep because of the cold.

You gave him a dry laugh. “Not really,” your voice was muffled through the blanket you had close to your mouth. The next step to getting warm would literally be crawling into your sleeping bag and never coming out again.

He looks over his own shoulder. A frown settles on his own as his eyes see your hands trembling. He turns around until he’s facing you. “You’re practically blue,” he says reaching out with his flesh hand. His fingers run along your cheek. Whether it’s the warmth from his hands or something else entirely, a shiver runs up your spine.

“It’s only going to get worse,” he says, lying down on his back and outstretching his metal arm over the pillows. He’s wearing one of the thick hoodies you liked seeing him in, and the ones you’ve stolen from him one too many times to keep yourself warm during the days. You realise almost a second too late that he’s waiting for you to move over towards him.

“I’ll be fine,” you said quickly. Your training kicks in so quickly – shut down the walls, kick everyone out. Don’t be weak.

He frowns at you. “If you want to freeze to death during the night, fine. That’s your call. But I won’t let you.”

The night was only going to get colder. The last time you had checked the time, it was seemingly an hour ago at midnight. You were both losing sleeping over it. You looked at him then at the free space between you.

“Just for the night,” you mumbled and shuffled over to his side. Even through the huddle of blankets wrapped around the both of you, and the sleeping bags you were both in, you felt slightly warmer now pressed to him. You pillowed your head on his shoulder and wrapped your arm around his chest. He pulled over the thick woollen blanket over the both of you.

“Better?” Bucky asked.

You nodded against his shoulder. You were still shaking slightly, but you were warmed than you had been moments before. Your eyelids suddenly grew heavy, and you closed your eyes. For the first time in a few days, you were letting the tiredness in your bones finally bring you down into sleep. There wasn’t anything to look out for. The cold was chased away. Everything was okay – now you could sleep.

Bucky’s other arm went around you as he kept you close to his side.

When you woke up the next morning, you had to fight the urge to break away and attack. During the night you and Bucky had moved so that now he was behind you, his arms around your chest and waist. Once the urge to attack was gone, you relaxed back onto the mattress.

The room was bright. The snow outside only reflected bright white light into the room, through the newspapers you and Bucky had stuck to the windows to keep prying eyes out. With every breath you took and exhaled, you watched it fog into the air. It was still unbearably cold. You dreaded the fact that eventually you had to move and get up. You were warm.

After a moment you felt Bucky move, he shuffled closer to you. His arms tightened around you, bringing your closer to him.

You should have stopped it. The instinct to shut out slowly crept back in. You should roll out of his embrace now and stand up. Get out of his hold and leave. Maybe go to the market at the end of the street. Do anything but stay here with him.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you stayed in his arms, shuffling back slightly until your back was pressed against his chest. Bucky snuffled and his arms tightened around you.

 

That was how you spent the winter. Some of the nights were bearable, and you could manage to keep yourself warm without the need for him. On the nights that it was cold, though it was never as bad as that night, you found yourself crawling over to Bucky’s side. It was something that just became easier over time, and eventually became second nature. As soon as he was down on the mattress, you curled around him, and his arms wrapped around you.

When spring came around, you both decided to get moving. The only reason you spent so long in Finland was because of the snow. You couldn’t move from Helsinki, but you did plan your next movement. Bucky was in the kitchen shovelling the last of your food into your backpacks while you poured over a map spread out on the small kitchen table.

“What about Saint-Petersburg?” you called out to him.

He looked over his shoulder at you. “What about it?”

He walked over to the table and dropped your bags on to the table and stood to your side. Even standing close to you now, you had to take a small step sideways just to put some distance between you both. You point to the railway you’re talking about. “Trains run throughout Europe,” you explained to him, “if he grabbed one going into Saint-Petersburg, we could make a run for anywhere else in mainland Europe.”

Running with Bucky was confusing and irritating at the best of times. You knew how to disappear and put as much distance between you and your enemies as possible. But that’s where the problem was. Who were your enemies? SHIELD? HYDRA? Both? More importantly, who were your friends?

You look over to Bucky whose eyes are running over the map. He nods firmly at the plan you have.

“Let’s go then.”

 

Getting from country to country was remarkably easy.

You and Bucky used every alias under the sun. Some boarders you’ve crossed meant having to jump over the fence, others through trekking over hills and mountains. You try to avoid transport, but sometimes it was needed.

The train you were on was one of the better experiences. No one looked your way. Most of them were either asleep or too invested in working by their laptops or phones. It was only halfway through the journey where you finally relaxed back into the chair though. You still couldn’t figure out how to turn off the niggling little voice in the back of your head telling you to watch everyone.

You looked out the window of the train and watched the landscape speed by. Looking over to Bucky, a soft smile tugged at the corner of your lips. He rested his head against the glass of the window, his eyes shut. Every so often, his eyelids would flicker. There were too many times during that winter where you had woken up to him having a nightmare. He had been through more than you. In those months you learned how to help him through it. When he would wake up, you always made him look at you and remind him that he’s in the present with you. The people who hurt him are dead.

His eyes opened.

“Stop watching me,” he said lowly.

You folded your arms over your chest and settled back into your seat. “You’re cute when you’re asleep,” you smirked at him. It only grew when he glared at you.

“The last person to call me cute was a mark,” he told you quietly, leaning forward in his seat slightly, “and he ended up thrown out a window.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “ _He_? Why Bucky Barnes, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“You’re close to following him.”

“It would cause quite the scene.”

“I don’t care.”

“You wouldn’t have a travelling companion anymore.”

“A blessing in disguise.”

You put your hand over your heart. “You wound me, Barnes. You really do.”

He looks unimpressed by your comments, and instead pulls the peak of his cap down over his eyes and relaxes back into his seat.

You tilt your head. “I wonder how much I could get for pictures of a sleeping Winter Soldier?” you muse, chuckling to yourself when he flips you off.

 

Before settling on a place to stay, you and Bucky always weigh out the pros and cons of it beforehand. Low-budget hotels had amenities, but you had to keep up appearances under an alias. It wasn’t the most difficult thing to do, but it required too much effort. Abandoned apartments didn’t need any of that, but amenities were often shut off by the previous owner. You had spent the entire winter without heat, so you were glad when Bucky suggested staying in a hotel for a few weeks.

He talked with the receptionist – a woman who smiled too brightly and wore too much makeup. You stood just behind Bucky, watching over your shoulder. It was still there, the need to check and make sure that you weren’t followed. Saint-Petersburg was a quick stop. You wouldn’t be staying here long, just until you could get back into mainland Europe.

Bucky had been talking about Bucharest for a while. You were happy to stay off the radar.

 

After spending a season in his arms, you regretted to inform yourself that you couldn’t sleep without him. The room you had gotten had two single beds, separated by a bedside cabinet. You tossed and turned for an hour after you both settled down for the night, eventually lying on your back and looking over to him.

“I can _hear_ you thinking,” he grumbled against the pillow. He rubbed his face and looked up at you. Even through the darkness, you could see how blue his eyes were.

You fidgeted with the blankets before lying on your side, facing him. “It’s just…it’s nothing.”

Bucky stared at you levelly for a moment. “For an assassin, you’re a terrible liar.”

You smirked at him. “I’ve never had to lie to anyone. They end up dead either way.”

Bucky rolled onto his side to face you, his metal arm folded under the pillow. “What’s wrong?” he asked again.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“I just…I mean, we spent three months sleeping together – not like that! – never like that,” you rushed to explain. A faint smile was tugging at the corner of his lips. You rubbed your hand over your face. “Just go back to sleep and leave me alone.”

You rolled over on to your other side and tugged the blankets around you. The room was silent.

Eventually you heard the other bed creak with movement, and the soft padding of feet along the carpeted floor. You looked over your shoulder and frowned when you saw Bucky shuffling over to your bed.

“What in God’s name-”

“-Move over doll,” he said drily, gesturing for you to move over. You looked at him levelly for a second, but you eventually moved. The single bed was not built for two people, let alone someone as built as Bucky plus your body next to his.

You sighed when Bucky settled on the bed. He wrapped his arms around you, your back pressed you his chest.

“Happy?” he mumbled.

You wanted to argue that this isn’t what you wanted, but you’d be lying. He’d know.

Wordlessly, you closed your eyes and nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

A normal day for you and Bucky turned out to be a normal day for anyone. There was a small market down the street, not overly populated and with enough cover from potential sniper-hiding spots.

You walked along the stalls, looking at the selection of food they had. It was mostly a farmer’s market, so all of the root vegetables and fruit they had on display was grown by the vendors. You already bought some vegetables for a soup you wanted to make – it would last the journey you were planning out of the city and on to the next one. Bucky walked along the fruit stalls on the other side of the street, picking up a few apples and pears.

You both had money, and you never asked each other how you had it. Bucky, you liked to imagine, sat on a street corner somewhere with an empty cup, looking like the homeless person that he is. You doubted it. He probably made money the same way you did – slipping valuables and cash out of people’s pockets and wallets. Before you ever killed, you knew how to pickpocket someone. It was your first talent, and you’re glad that you still have it.

When you walked over to Bucky, you raised your eyebrow at him when you saw what he had in his gloved hand. “Plums?” you asked. “They don’t last very long without a fridge or something.”

“I’ll eat them when I get home,” he replied to you, handing over a few coins over to the vendor. He’s an elderly man who smiles at the both of you as you say your goodbyes and thanks. You take Bucky’s arm and lead him away. The man gives you the same smile the woman at the hotel gave you.

Bucky looked down to your joined arms. “You know,” he said lowly, “ _this_ doesn’t help it-”

You managed to punch him lightly in the side.

 

The only time you went outside was to grab supplies.

The hotel had food to give, but Bucky was adamant that every day he could go down to the market and pick up some fresh fruit and vegetables. He always had one bag of plums, usually five or six, and ate them throughout the day. You never thought anything of it.

The only problem with going ot the market every day was that some of the vendors knew your faces. It was nice in a way. They tended to give you a discount. But you always reminded yourself that if someone, a mercenary or a gun-for-hire came looking for you, the vendors would know exactly who you are.

You sat on the bed of your room, flicking through channels on the TV. Ever since that night, when you both realised that you needed each other to ground yourselves, Bucky and you had pushed the beds together. It was easier than trying to fit on to one of the single beds.

The shower was running in the bathroom. As Bucky showered, you poured over the map sprawled out on the bed in front of you. Realistically, you could go anywhere. You could grab one of the trains ot of Saint-Petersburg and then it spread out into every corner of Europe. The plan had been to go as far east as possible. But it just wasn’t working.

The shower turned off and Bucky stepped out of the bathroom. A towel hung loosely around his hips and he scrubbed his long hair with another towel.

You were used to seeing each other. Being on the run meant getting shot at. Some of the shots actually hit their mark, and that meant having to have the other person patch you up. You’ve seen Bucky’s chest and back more times that you could count – the scars littered on the flesh there are ones that you’ve healed. He’s seen just as much of you.

It still didn’t stop your eyes from lingering on him as he pulled out his red long-sleeved shirt from his bag.

“Where to next?” he asked you as he pulled the shirt over his head.

You looked down at the map again and sighed heavily. “I don’t know,” you said, “where do you want to go?”

Bucky grabbed his worn jeans and walked back over to the bathroom. He paused at the door and looked at the map on the bed. “Bucharest,” he said, “it’s easy to get to from here.”

You traced along a network of train lines across Europe, from Saint-Petersburg to Bucharest. You would have to stop at a few stations and swap trains, but it was a relatively easy route to take. It beat walking there.

When Bucky walked back into the room he had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up and his damp hair tied up in a loose ponytail.

“So that’s settled then,” you said as you began to fold the map away. Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed and started flicking through the TV channels. It was mostly day-time TV. His shoulders were slightly tense.

You crawled over to him and reached out to put your hands on his shoulders.

“Are you okay?” you asked him.

He didn’t give you an audible answer, but he did look over his shoulder at you and give a faint smile. He handed you back the remote and went over to the desk on the other side of the room. One the small wooden table was his journal. It was small and black, with the latch on it always closed. You never looked at it. It belonged to him, and you didn’t want to impose on his privacy.

But you did know something was going on.

You knew about HYDRA. You were practically there with him. His memories are slowly coming back in the form of that journal. You often saw him scribbling down quick notes in it, or sticking down a new photo or newspaper clipping to the page. Never asking about it in general, you only asked him the question was he okay.

Who would be okay after all that he’s gone through?

Bucky had been HYDRA’s success story. They could _make_ soldiers. You didn’t know how long you had been on the run – it seemed like years – but during that time, you tried to make him understand that none of this was his fault. News reports still talked about the Winter Soldier and his terrorists attacks all over the world. There were people on TV and the internet still talking about it, and not letting it be dealt with by those in a position to do so.

In your eyes, HYDRA was winning. Bucky was still so deeply scarred, you wondered if you would ever get the Sergeant back that he used to be.

He needed to remember Rogers. You knew that was the one thing he just _had_ to remember. He told you about it – the man on the bridge, the man on the helicarrier, the man he dragged out of a river and left on the bank.

If he could remember that much, then maybe he would be able to heal. Just maybe.

 

You woke up during the night to Bucky’s body trembling.

The train you needed to catch was an early one. You wanted to leave Saint-Petersburg as quickly as you could, so you both turned in early for the night. It didn’t take much to wake you as you were in a light sleep. The slight change in Bucky’s breathing was what initially stirred you. As you rubbed at your eyes, you realised that his body jerked slightly.

Another nightmare.

What you had to do kicked in – wake him slowly. You put your hand on his chest and called his name softly. This was a too often occurrence for you not to know what to do. Nightmares were just a part of your night-time routine.

His eyelids flickered open and darted around the room.

“Hey, hey,” you caught his jaw and turned his head so he was looking at you, “Buck. I’m here.”

It took a while. With every nightmare he had, it took longer for him to come back to the present, like it was getting a deeper hold on him every time he fell asleep. He scanned his eyes around the room – over the furniture, to the door, and then back to a window on the opposite wall.

Your hand was still on his chest rubbing slow circles there. You could feel his heartbeat drum against his chest, but it started to slow down with every measured breath he took.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His jaw tightened.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want,” you assured him, “just say the word and we can go back to sleep.”

He swallowed thickly. “I don’t remember anything,” he said tightly. He was staring off into one corner of the room, but not looking at anything in particular. “I thought I could remember more, but it’s all so foggy-”

“-It’s alright Bucky,” you said softly. Tears were brimming in the corners of his eyes. He tried to blink them away but one ran down his cheek. You didn’t have any control of your movements – you reached up to wipe the tear away. You cupped his cheek and made him look at you. “You can’t force these things. It will come back eventually, I promise. Until then, just keep doing what you’re doing now.”

He breathed out a shaky breath as you rubbed his cheekbone with your thumb. When your senses finally caught up with you, so did the voice that had been trained and beaten into you. Don’t let anyone in. He’s in too deep already. Get him out. You’re compromised.

You didn’t listen to it. You stopped listening to it long ago.

Bucky didn’t go back to sleep after that. You woke up every hour or so to the same sight – Bucky either looking over to the side of the room, lost in thought, or he was looking down at you with a slight frown.

When the morning came around you woke up to Bucky’s side of the bed empty. You ran your arm over the sheets there. Cold. You sat up in bed and looked around the room. His jacket and cap still hung from the back of a chair. Your bags were still waiting for you by the doorway.

The first thing that came to your mind was the market. You slowly slid out of bed and pulled on one of his hoodies. The train would be leaving in an hour, and you just wanted to get going again. Being in one place for too long wasn’t your style. You grew more anxious every day as you waited for an opportunity to leave.

The second thought that came to your head was that he was out running. When you were in Helsinki he used to run to deal with nightmares. That was before the winter settled in. Sometimes he would run a few blocks, other times half the city. He always came back in a slightly better mood.

The door opening caught you off guard. Bucky walked into the room with an unreadable expression on his face. It was the one you saw on his face when he came out of his nightmare last night.

“We should get going,” he said firmly, walking over to the desk to collect his notebook. He looked over at you and raised an eyebrow. “Get your bag.”

You wanted to ask him was he okay? The words couldn’t make it out of your mouth though, so you wordlessly went over to the door and flung your bag over your shoulder.

The station was close to the hotel, but the journey seemed to take longer than it did. Bucky stayed a bit closer to your side. Your arms and shoulders would brush every so often, and you would try to take a step away from him, but he would only fill in the space again.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him. Looking over at him, you frowned. “You have that look on your face that something’s wrong.”

Bucky set his jaw and continued to lead you both through the station. The corwds offered enough cover to slip through most of the platforms unnoticed. The train would be leaving soon, and you just wanted to get out of the city and on the move again.

“Buck,” you said again after a few minutes.

He looked at you, then over his shoulder.

“There’s a guy behind us,” he said quietly, walking a bit closer to you, “black cap and leather jacket. He’s been following me since this morning.”

You managed to get a subtle look over your shoulder.

Your eyes connected with those of a man across the station. Your hand went to Bucky’s and you squeezed it, turning back around to start walking towards the train.

“Visual confirmed,” the man said into the comm on the lapel of his jacket.

He turned on his heels. “Do you want me to follow them?”

“ _Negative, we’ll have people waiting for them in Bucharest_ ,” his supervisor’s voice came through the comm.


	3. Chapter 3

Getting off the train in Bucharest, you and Bucky immediately dispersed into the crowds of people on the platform. He had his hand on the small of your back, helping you glide through the sea of people easily and quickly. It had been the most anxious train journey of your life.

You had both left the man on the platform, but it didn’t stop you from looking over your shoulder every time someone got up from their seats, or walked down the aisle, or even coughed.

“I don’t suppose you know where you’re going, do you?” you said quietly, knowing Bucky can hear you through the chatter of people around you both.

He looked around for a moment, before turning you both towards the eastern exits of the train station. You tightened the hold you had on the strap of your backpack and made your way towards the exit.

“There’s a part of the city that’s hardly populated,” he said, “there are some apartments there that should be empty.”

You didn’t want to know how he knew that, so you let him walk you both through the city’s streets. Out in the open, you could get a better view of what surrounded you. It was mainly stores and houses lining the streets, with the occasional news stall on the street itself.

“How far away are these apartments?” you asked.

Bucky looked over his shoulder to the way you both came. “Not very far,” he said, turning back around to look down the length of the street you were both walking.

Whenever Bucky said that something _wasn’t very far,_ you worried. Sometimes, it genuinely wasn’t far. Maybe a five or ten minute walk away. Other times, like that time in Paris, it meant walking across the entire city through a maze of backstreets. You raised your eyebrow at him. “When you say ‘not very far’-”

“-I can see the building from here,” he said, nodding to the end of the long street. At the very end, passed the junctions and traffic lights, and when the crowds finally dissipate, you can see a tall apartment block standing with several others at the other side of the road.

It was a silent walk to the apartment building. The main doors were boarded up with signs and graffiti sprawled across the wooden beams. You both went down a small alleyway between the building and another one, keeping close to the shaded wall. A fire escape hung down and Bucky jumped up to grab it. It slid down easily.

“It’s on the top floor,” he said, standing to the side. You climbed up first and hoisted yourself up on to the metal framework of the fire escape. The building wasn’t the tallest one you’ve ever climbed, but it was easily six floors tall. Some of the laddering on the fire escape looked rusted.

Bucky climbed up after you.

When you had pulled yourself up onto the last fire escape, you looked along the metal landing. There were three windows along the landing, one of which was slightly opened. Bucky shuffled past you and walked towards the opened window.

He reached in and unhinged the latch, swinging the whole window open. He gestured to the window. “Ladies first.”

You slowly crawled in through the window, stepping down onto a lightly dusted wooden floor. Beams of light came in through the gaps in the window that weren’t covered with newspaper.

Bucky slid in after you.

“Okay,” you put your hands on your hips, “I’ll bite: how do you know about this place?”

He bit his lip and looked down at his boots. “I’ve been out in the world far longer than you have,” was all he said before walking into the apartment.

It wasn’t big, but it wasn’t tiny either. You had lived in smaller spaces than this. As you walked through it you noticed that there wasn’t much furniture. There was a small kitchen area with a wooden table and two chairs to the back of the room, and the rest opened out into what you assumed would have been a living space. A mattress was pushed into the corner of the room, just by the bathroom which had a bath and shower. Your muscles ached at the prospect of somewhere having water.

“The amenities should still work,” Bucky said to you, presumably knowing what you were thinking. “We should have water and electricity.”

He put his bag down on the table in the kitchen area, and started pulling out some small packets of food you had bought on the way here. You would need to start pickpocketing soon, preferably today, but all you wanted to do was sleep.

Looking at the windows again, you took in how they were all covered in newspapers and tape. “Didn’t want any prying eyes, did you?”

Bucky looked up at you with an unreadable expression.

You set your own bag down beside the mattress. There was already two rolled up sleeping bags there with a few blankets and pillows folded underneath it. It looked like a traditional safe house, and you really started to wonder about Bucky. Maybe he used this whenever he was on a mission for HYDRA. That was what stuck in your mind.

You took off your jacket and flung it down on to the bed. With spring settling in, the temperatures were slowly beginning to rise. It was still cold. Eastern Europe could never not be cold. But you were warm now that you had climbed up the side of an apartment block.

“The water should work, yeah?” you asked over your shoulder as you headed into the bathroom. It was small, like the rest of the apartment, with a bathtub, a shower head above it, and a toilet and sink. Just under the sink was a small wooden cabinet that had one of its doors missing.

“Yeah it should,” Bucky called from the kitchen. You closed the door, but leaving it slightly cracked open. Once you toed off your boots, you started pulling off your hoodie, t-shirt and jeans, tossing them all into a pile into the corner of the room.

The water worked, and you almost cried at the sound of the pipes working and the bath slowly filling up with warm water.

“Sure you don’t want to join me Barnes?” you called out to Bucky.

There was a pause before he answered. “No.”

You stepped into the bath and your muscles immediately started to relax. You didn’t know how long it had been until you could just sit in a bath for the hell of it. You always showered quickly, sometimes not even having the time to do that. You let your head rest against the back of the bath and you slipped down until the surface of the water lapped against your bottom lip. There was a small bar of soap on the side of the bath, but you didn’t need it. Not yet, anyway.

Bucky still moved around in the kitchen outside. You could barely see him through the crack in the door, moving around and putting away food and other supplies. When he looked up, ice blue eyes met yours.

“The offer still stands, Barnes,” you said, lifting your arm up and out of the water to hold out your hand.

He took the rucksack from the table. “No thanks,” he said and walked into the corner of the room and out of your sight.

 

Pickpocketing had to be a next-day job. When you had dried off, you were too tired to even attempt to go out onto the streets and start picking up money.

It had been a good day so far. You managed to grab a few Euros from a man walking down the street towards you, bumping into him just as a cover to snatch loose change you could hear bouncing around in his pocket.

You could have kept doing it, but you had enough food at the apartment to last you a few days. Bucky stayed behind, wanting to work on his journal. You left him to it. There was a small market near where you lived, selling mostly fruits and vegetables. You picked up a handful of plums for Bucky and a few other fruits for yourself.

“ _Mulțumesc_ ,” you smiled at the vendor and began walking back up the street. It was still pretty early in the morning, being about nine a.m., and there weren’t a lot of people in the streets. Being in a new place was sometimes reassuring. People didn’t know who you were and didn’t even acknowledge you as you walked past them.

You got halfway back to your apartment when something felt off.

You looked over your shoulder to the morning crowds. They were steadily getting bigger as the city began to wake up for work and school. _Get home_ , your mind told you, and you went back to walking a bit faster than usual.

The feeling that you were being followed never left you, even as you travelled across Eastern Europe. The habit of looking over your shoulder was so engrained into your bones that it was just a reflex now.

You eventually got off the main street, instead walking down a narrower one that led straight back to the apartment block. In addition to pickpocketing, you spent the morning learning and mapping out the streets and alleyways of the cities. You never knew when you had to make a quick exit.

The feeling didn’t leave you though. You made sure to walk between people, keeping yourself mostly covered from what could get you from a vantage point above.

 _Just get back to Bucky_ , your mind repeated over and over again. Your training kept your heartbeat steady, even though your hands started to tremble slightly. You shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket and kept your head down.

You can see the apartment building. It’s a few buildings away, but you’re nearly there.

That was when you felt it.

There was a small prick in the back of your neck. You instinctively went to touch the skin there, and your breath stuck in your throat when you felt a small container sticking out. You yanked it out and looked at it in your palm. It was tiny, holding no more than a few millilitres of a clear liquid.

You spun around on your heels. Nothing. You could see nothing from the way you came. There were a few people walking back up the street towards the main square of the city, all with their backs turned to you.

“Bucky,” your breath finally left you. You turned back towards your apartment block and began to job towards it. Your vision was blurring slightly, everything being a bit brighter and a bit blurred around the edges.

You still gripped the vial in your hand as you clambered towards the apartment block.

Your ears pricked at the sound of someone’s voice. Then the sounds of footsteps hurrying behind you.

A hand grabbed your upper arm.

“There you are, _asasin_ ,” a man’s voice was in your ear. You tried to jerk your arm away and turn around to face him, but something was happening to your body. Your muscles were too loose and your body seemingly too tired to listen to what your mind was screaming at you.

The world seemed to slow down. Images blurred and sounds were beginning to muffle themselves. Another arm went around your waist and pulled you against a body to your side. Looking over blearily, you saw a man you had seen around the city before.

Your eyes widened slightly when you placed him as the man who watched you and Bucky in Saint-Petersburg.

A feral smile spread across his lips. “You’re coming with me Miss (Y/L/N). My employer wants a word with you.”

Your legs tingled and threatened to give out from underneath you.

Your head lolled forward as whatever was coursing through your veins began to take control of your body.

Through the haze, you noticed the hold on your arm tighten slightly.

Then a voice. It wasn’t the person holding you, but someone else.

You heard your name.

The fog returned and you felt yourself drop to the ground.

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you saw the man who had drugged you step begin to step away from you and reach to his belt. A holstered gun was strapped there, but he jerked back with a choked off gasp.

Rolling your head upwards, you saw Bucky with his hand around the man’s throat. The mechanics of his metal arm clicked and shifted together as he tightened his hold on the man’s throat. His own hands scrabbled against Bucky’s arm, trying to get out of the hold.

“As putea sa te omoare acum,” Bucky hissed at the man, “Da-mi un motiv de ce am tratata cu indiferenta't.”

He was threatening him, wishing for a reason to kill the man he had in his hand. The man’s eyes widened as he tried to give him an excuse not to.

Bucky shoved him backwards and the man fell back onto his back. “If I ever find you around here again, I’ll kill you, drag you right out of hell, and kill you again.”

The man scampered backwards, quickly getting to his feet and bolted down the long alleyway.

Your vision began to fade right as Bucky knelt down in front of you. “Stay with me,” he urged, tapping his fingers against your cheek to keep you awake.

You mumbled something about being too tired, and began to slip away as you felt him lift you up into his arms.

 

When you woke up, the first words out of your mouth were:

“Let me kill the prick.”

Bucky tried to hide the smile that was tugging at the corners of his lips. He sat on the edge of the mattress, pressing a cold towel to your forehead. Your breathing had levelled out. The only thing left was the dizziness still fogging your mind.

“I already threatened him. I have to follow up on my threats,” Bucky said softly, moving the towel around your forehead, spreading the coolness over your slightly warm skin. It was helping with the dizziness slightly. You remember him carrying you up the stairs to your apartment and lying you down onto the mattress. You were still conscious – eyes closed, but conscious.

You gave a light laugh. “I don’t need you killing for me Barnes,” you said softly, “I’ll be out of practise.”

Bucky eventually took away the towel and tossed it somewhere into the room. You watched him wring his hands together, noticing how he still cracked the knuckles of his flesh hand.

“It wasn’t your fault you know,” you assured him. You tried lifting your arm but it was a dead weight. Instead, you rolled onto your side to face him. “I wasn’t watching. It’s my own fault, not yours. It’s never yours.”

He looked at you and for the first time in what seemed like a long time, you managed to see through his ice blue eyes and right into what was happening behind them.

He looked so vulnerable. Like this was killing him inside.

You tried reaching out again, managing to let your hand flop down on his knee. He put his own over yours.

“I could have lost you,” Bucky said quietly, almost as a whisper. He took a deep breath and let it out shakily. “If I hadn’t been there, I could have lost you.”

You let your fingers entwine on his knee. His thumb rubbed your knuckles gently.

“What’s happening to us?” he asked suddenly. If you had the full use of your mind, you would have probably given him an answer. _What’s happening, Barnes, is that feelings are being developed here. Feelings that were beaten out of us long ago._

Instead, you stared blankly back at him.

He patted the back of your hand and stood up from the mattress. “Get some rest,” he said gently, walking over to the kitchen, “the drug should get out of your system by itself.”

“Stay with me?” you asked. He stood in the middle of your living room for a minute, looking between you and the piles of food on the kitchen table that still needed to be put away. He eventually took off his jacket and toed off his boots, leaving him in a red long-sleeved shirt and worn-down jeans.

He lay down beside you, helping you move to his side. You threw your arm over his middle and buried your face into the crook of his neck.

You fell asleep not long after that, the last thing you felt were lips being pressed lightly to your temple.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone interested, Scopolamine (what was used on the Reader) can make the person it's affecting totally susceptible to what they're being told, in addition to causing drowsiness. I was going to start going into what might have happened between the Guy and the Reader (something similar to Bucky's trigger words in CW), but then Bucky came along and saved the day. Rescuing the Reader from both Government People and my Mind. Good job Bucky. 
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to add on another chapter to this? I have the last one planned out, but it's going to be longer than the rest of the chapters. Not going to lie, it's mostly going to be fluff and smut. That's been the whole point of this fic to be quite honest. 
> 
>  
> 
> A lovely Anon on Tumblr requested for Bucky and the Reader to be in a bath together. That will happen. I promise <3


	4. Chapter 4

As the poison slowly left your system, you were plotting the most painful death you could think of for the man who put it in you in the first place.

It was the longest night of your life. You were too tired to get out of bed, but your stomach churned and twisted, and eventually you had to scramble to the bathroom to vomit. You already sweated through two shirts, eventually throwing on one of Bucky’s. You put your hand on your forehead. You were cooling down, but still warm.

When you dragged yourself back on to the mattress, Bucky was already sitting up and watching you carefully. “It takes time,” is all he said before wrapping his arms around you. Even though you were melting, you still buried your nose into the crook of his neck, and moulded your body to his. The sheets hung over your hips.

As the night droned on, you switched between sleeping for one or two hours and getting up to throw up whatever was left in your stomach, and tossing and turning on the bed. Bucky stayed awake. He followed you into the bathroom when you had to be sick, gently rubbing your back and urging you to take small sips of water when you were finished. When you would turn around on the bed, he waited until you were settled again before going back to sleep. It was a light sleep. He always woke up whenever you moved an inch.

When sunlight beamed in through the gaps between the newspapers on the window, you sighed. Looking over your shoulder, Bucky was asleep with his arm folded under his pillow. Everything seemed a bit brighter and clearer. Things weren’t fuzzy anymore, and you could hear the morning traffic outside on the streets, not the annoying ringing in your ears that the poison gave you.

You turned onto your back and stared up at the ceiling. Your stomach was sore – a mix of all of the vomiting you had done the previous night and the fact that it was now empty. Looking over to Bucky, he was still asleep. No matter how earlier you woke up, he was always awake before you. He looked so peaceful when he slept – like none of the things that had happened to the both of you had happened.

Turning onto your side to face him, you watched him. A strand of hair fell down onto his face, and you slowly tucked it back behind his ear.

He had stayed with you throughout the night. That was the only thing in your head. Through all the sickness and dizziness and the fact he saved your life, it was the only thing in your head.

You could have been taken by the man to God knows where. Bucky wouldn’t have ever known. You had no doubt in your mind that he would destroy the continent looking for you, but you would have been alone. It was the only thing you were afraid of. Being alone.

The thought of it actually made you blood run cold in your veins.

You were so close to being alone – being away from Bucky and having no clue whether or not you would be able to see him again.

“I can _hear_ you worrying,” Bucky mumbled into his arm. His eyelids slowly opened and you met his ice blue eyes.

You smiled sadly at him. “I have a lot to worry about.”

A reply didn’t come. Bucky just stared at you for a minute before sighing. “What would have happened if I wasn’t there?-”

“-Bucky-”

“-You could have been taken from me,” his voice wavered on the last word. His eyes were starting to glaze over with tears and you reached out to place your hand on his neck. A steady pulse was under your palm.

He closed his eyes for a minute, taking a shuddering breath, and opened them again.

“I need to keep you safe,” he said softly, “I can’t lose another thing in my life.”

You rubbed the back of his neck with your hand, your fingers playing with a few strands of hair that were there. It was only then when you realised how close you were to him. All of the nights you had spent together, how close you were then, it felt different to how it was now.

“I’m promising to you that I’m never going to leave your side,” you said quietly. You swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat. “We need each other, you and I.”

One of Bucky’s arms – his flesh one, went around your waist. His hand was at the small of your back, his fingers stroking lightly over the fabric of your shirt. His shirt that you were still wearing.

Bucky’s jaw clenched. He looked away from your eyes for a moment, looking down between your bodies. When he looked back up to you, his eyes were clear. You couldn’t see any of the Soldier in him.

“What’s happening?” he asked. “To us, I mean? Something’s different.”

You nodded slowly.

Bucky’s jaw tightened again. “I know what it is – or what it might be. I don’t want to admit it because...what if you’re taken from me? I-I can’t lose you too-”

“-Bucky,” you made him look at you. You could see the slight panic settling into his eyes. “Buck, I swear to you that I’ll never leave you. Okay? I’ll always be right by your side.”

You stroked the back of his neck with your thumb. Your eyes looked down to his lips.

“I feel it too, you know,” you whispered, “what you’re feeling. I feel it too. I have for a while, actually.”

Bucky brought his index finger underneath your chin.

You were the one to lean forward and touch your lips against his. It was the barest of touches, nothing more than lips being pressed against each other.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your lips, “more than is safe.”

“When have our lives ever been safe?” you shot back, but pulled him in for another kiss. You moved closer to him, shoving sheets out of the way until you were against his chest. Bucky’s arms went around you as he moved you both back on to the middle of the bed. 

“If we do this,” you said once you pushed at his chest slightly, “we’re not putting it on a list of things we’re running away from. We don’t forget about it when we wake up and go back to being what we were.”

Bucky trailed his lips down your neck. “Never,” he said, nipping lightly at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You spread your legs around his waist and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. His lips moved softly against yours. You felt him brush the fingers of his flesh hand against your cheek, moving slightly until he was holding your jaw in his hand. The warmth that always came from his skin made a shiver run down your spine.

When you broke away again, you reached for the hem of his shirt. He raised his arms and you helped lift it off of him. You threw it into some part of the room, closely followed by your own. Bucky raised his eyebrow when he noticed it was his own shirt.

You cut off the comment he was about to make by reaching for the back of his neck again and pulling him into another kiss. Each one you had with him was different – the walls between you both were fully down now. Each kiss was deeper than the last; each touch lingered just a bit longer.

When he ground his hips into yours, you gasped against his lips. “Are you sure?” he asked. Some of his hair fell down from where he had it tied up. You reached to the back of his head and untied his hair. Combing your fingers through it, you nodded.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Are you?”

He nodded. “I just want to make sure,” he said, kissing at your neck again and making his way down to your collarbone.

You titled your head back. “Such a gentleman,” you smiled at him. He rolled his eyes and stroked his hand along the side of your body. “Were you like this to the ladies back in the ‘40s?”

Bucky leaned up and captured your lips in a searing kiss. You brought your hand to the back of his head and wound your fingers around locks of his hair. His metal hand caught your other one and pinned it to the mattress. You felt his tongue trace along the seam of your lips.

His hands went down to your jeans, unbuttoning them and dragging them and your underwear off of you. They joined the clothes pile that was probably forming in the corner of the room. You reached down to unbuckle Bucky’s belt but his hands caught yours.

“Let me,” he said, undoing his belt and jean’s buttons quickly and tossing them away. He loomed over you again and kissed you deeply. You relished the slow kisses he gave – something you didn’t think would be his style. You didn’t know what to expect from this, but so far, you were enjoying yourself.

You brought one of your arms down to his waist, urging him slightly to move against you.

“Wait,” he pulled away breathlessly, “wait, we don’t-I mean, we don’t have anything-”

You managed to push at his shoulders, lying him down on the mattress and straddling his hips. He leaned up and wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you close to him. “I don’t care,” you said, bringing your lips together again. You ground your hips against his, moaning into his mouth. It had been too long since either of you felt like this. The feeling was always there, deep down, but you could never do anything to help it move along.

His fingers went down to stroke you gently, continuously kissing you as you relished in the feel of his fingers.

When his fingers leave you, you try to keep yourself steady as you lift up slightly, spreading your legs around his hips and let him in. You gasp against his mouth, moaning slightly when he leans his forehead against your shoulder. “Jesus Christ,” he cursed, thrusting gently up into you until he bottoms out.

You didn’t move for a while, neither of you did. After a minute of shared breath, you were the one to move first. You grounded your hips against him, getting a gasped breath in response. You let your arms tighten around him as you brought him closer to you. The hand he had on your back nudged you closer too, and helped you move against him. It was slow, and sweet, and everything you missed about it. You had each other now, and it was something they could never take away from you.

“You’re gorgeous,” he gasped, clenching his jaw. You framed his face with both of your hands and kissed him again.

He pulled back and gasped you name, something that sounded like it was punched out of him. “It’s been so long,” he muttered into your neck, almost apologetically. Neither of you were going to last that long anyway. The build-up and the admitting of feelings, the everything that had led you both here. It was too much too soon.

You let your arms go back around his, rocking and moving with him. You closed your eyes for a minute, and he brought one hand to your back and rolled you both over back onto the mattress. You wrapped your legs around his back, your feet slipping down to the small of his back. “It’s okay to come Jamie,” you whispered, tightening your fingers around the hair you had caught on the back of his head. He let out a choked sound as his hips stuttered, stilling when he finally comes. The movement and feel of it sent you over the edge as you tightened around him, groaning into his neck.

When you finally look at each other again, you brushed a stray strand of hair back from Bucky’s face. His eyes were still clear, searching yours.

“You okay?” you asked him.

He nodded, gently pulling out of you and lying down to your side. You went into his arms, cuddling against his chest.

“I love you,” he muttered against the top of your head, pressing a kiss there.

You smiled softly into his neck. “I love you too.”

You woke up a few hours later.

Normally whenever you slept during the day, you would be angry at yourself. You were wasting time – you could be out pickpocketing and getting more money for food and supplies. You could be preparing your next move.

Before the thoughts could start, you noticed the arm heavily resting around your waist. The fact that you were naked was a secondary thought, but the heat of the person behind you kept your mind blank for a minute. There were fingers carding through your hair.

“Afternoon,” Bucky’s voice was muffled as his nose was pressed into the back of your neck. You smiled to yourself at how groggy Bucky’s voice sounded.

You turned around in his arms, settling down when you tucked your head under his chin. “We should probably do something,” you sighed into his neck.

Bucky huffed a laugh. “Like?”

“Get money, buy some supplies, get you your damn plums,” you started listing off things you would normally do during the day. You let out a heavy sigh. “But I’m too comfortable to do any of that.”

“Same here,” Bucky replied.

When you eventually rolled out of bed, it was easily one or two in the afternoon. Lunchtime traffic was outside causing a storm on the streets. There were enough people there for you to plan your trip to the market.

“We’re going together,” you heard Bucky say seriously. Looking over your shoulder, he pulled on his jacket. You finished zipping up your own and you folded your arms in front of your chest. “You said that we were never leaving each other sides. I’m not letting you out onto those streets by yourself ever again.”

You walked towards Bucky, placing your hands on his chest. “Jesus, what have I done? I’m in love with an over-protective jerk.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at you, but leaned down to kiss you gently. He had a bit of height on you, so you had to rock up on your toes slightly.

“Come on then,” you patted his chest and took his hand in yours.

He managed to peck a last kiss to your lips. “Where are we going?”

“To the market,” you said, pulling him out of the apartment and down the staircase. “We need to get you your stupid plums.”


	5. Post-Credit Scene

You set down your back on the bedside table. Fishing out some of the fruits and vegetables you bought at the market down the street, the room you had been given was small, but larger than the ones that you had stayed in.

There was a knock on your door. “Good morning,” a young man said, stepping into your room.

You smiled up at the man. “Good morning.”

He folded his arms behind him. “The king would like to have a word with you,” he said, “it’s about the progress of the project.”

Your fingers twitched by your sides.

“Everything is going well, my lady,” the man assured you, probably seeing the small flicker of panic that went through your eyes. “He just wants to talk to you about what might happen after.”

After. It was something you thought about almost every day. You nodded. “I’ll be down in a minute,” you said. The man turned on his heel and left the room, leaving your door open.

You went to your bedside drawer and opened the first compartment. Bucky’s old dog tags were still there, linked together by a thin metal ball chain. In between them was a simple silver ring.

You undid the clasp and put the chain on. The tags managed to hide the ring when they were hanging down, almost touching the top of your chest. You fisted them in your hand and took a deep breath. “Everything will be okay,” you said to yourself and the empty room. You let go of the tags and did up the collar of your shirt, hiding them slightly.

Walking down the long white corridors of the home was still strange. The people that passed you greeted you every day, and almost always asked how he was doing with the team. You didn’t really have an answer for them, as the team didn’t know themselves, but you always said he was fine.

He was waiting for you out on one of the balconies overlooking the vast forest that surrounded the compound.

“Miss Barnes,” he greeted you with a warm smile, “you got my message then?”

You tugged your hoodie a bit tighter around yourself. “I did, T’Challa, thank you.”

The sun was already making its way up over a nearby mountain, casting the sky into different shades of red and oranges. The morning air was crisp and the fog that usually settled over the forest was starting to dissipate.

“He’s doing well,” T’Challa informed you. The dog tags hung a bit heavier around your neck. You resisted the urge to reach for them and hold them in your hand.

“How well?” you asked. He had been doing well for a while now, but he was still asleep.

T’Challa turned around and leaned back against the railing of the balcony. “Our progress on some sort of cure…it’s taking longer than expected, but he’s alright. His vitals are normal and his brain activity hasn’t stopped since going under.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I just want him out.”

T’Challa gave you a sad smile and clapped a hand onto your shoulder. “I’ll do everything I can for him,” he promised. Someone came to the door of the balcony, waving him over to continue on with work. He said his goodbyes to you, promising again that he’ll do whatever it takes to fix him, and left.

You stayed on the balcony, not going back into the compound and having to face the sympathy smiles you would be getting from everyone inside. Most of them had been nothing but kind to you since he went under, but you didn’t want their sympathy.

You wanted your fiancée out of that damn freezer and with you.

Reaching for the dog tags, you parted them and held the silver ring between your fingers.

You unhooked the chain around your neck and slid off the ring. You turned it in your fingers for a minute, taking it in. It was simple and plain, nothing more than a silver band with a small curling design through it. You put the dog tags back around your neck and slid the ring onto your ring finger.

“Till the end of the line, Jamie,” you muttered to yourself, “till the end of the line.”

**Author's Note:**

> yourqueenforayear.tumblr.com - my tumblr for if anyone wants to come and scream at me about Bucky. Seriously. I'll listen and scream back. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are VERY much appreciated! 
> 
> (Smut is a-coming. As is angst. Trust me. I plotted the entire thing at work today and nearly cried)


End file.
